


new light

by bentleys



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Hope, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bentleys/pseuds/bentleys
Summary: Once upon a time Koala was shackled; now, unchained, she gets to give the gift of freedom to others.This fic was originally written for the zine 'Grandline Girls.'





	new light

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for a zine that was meant to come out earlier this year but that was unfortunately cancelled. Called 'Grandline Girls', it was celebration of the women and girls of the One Piece world. A lot of very talented people produced art for it, and some of them have posted their pieces on twitter with the hashtag #grandlinegirls ! Check it out, if you like.

A cool breeze leapt against Koala’s face, and the smell of the salt of the high seas tickled at her nose. She clenched her fists at her sides and the bruises on her knuckles ached; she sighed and the soreness of the muscles of her back made itself known. The sensation of having completed a mission was a physical one, from her tired feet in their boots to the dried sweat of her bangs flattened to her forehead.

“Good morning, Koala-san!” She turned and there was a young woman, bucket in tow, presumably off to scrub some length of deck, although it seemed early for it. The tall girl bowed her head to Koala as she passed, her smile bright and charming and only a little forced. Koala wanted to tell her that she didn't need to bow, or to greet her, or to scrub the deck at 5 in the morning so as to be ever-useful, but she didn't; this woman was clearly a new recruit and one cannot force a new perspective overnight.

 _You will see the safety we have here; the peace of it,_ she thought. _It will turn your smile genuine; your work will be yours and if you want, you can share it with us willingly._ Those are the things a free person learns.

“Good morning,” Koala said, slowly, gently. “What’s your name?” And the woman in front of her beamed, her lips parted in the simple joy of recognition, of personhood.

“Nicia,” she said.

“Good morning, Nicia,” Koala said. They watched each other for a moment, that sea-breeze tugging at their hair, the morning sky lightening, until Nicia turned back to her self-imposed duties. Koala stepped away, thinking of her own young self and the physicality that freedom had, too. A freedom bone-deep compared to the temporary act of a job completed. Her memories didn’t hurt quite so much as they used to.

\--

“Hello,” Koala said. She waited in the doorway, rocking back on her heels. In the darkness of the ship’s cabin there was only the early light filtering in through the window and a small oil lamp on the desk. If Dragon had been up all night reading then he would be difficult to distract now.

“Hello,” came the response, drawn out of her leader reluctantly. He seemed to tear himself from whatever he was reading—it looked like a map, perhaps there was movement in their near future—and turned to face her. “Did you just return?”

She nodded, then becoming unsure if he could see it in the low light, clarified aloud. “Yes. It was—” but he held up a hand to stop her.

She bit her lip, made uneasy by his breach in procedure. “Dragon-san,” she said. “Is there—something coming on the horizon?”

He watched her for a moment; the flickering of his lamp briefly illuminating his shadowed eyes, then he sighed and turned slightly away from her.

“There’s always something on the horizon,” he said simply. “Until forces bigger than all of us change.”

She knew it to be true; the weight of the injustices of the world often clung to her like a second skin; remembered pain and sympathetic pain mixing alike; someone, somewhere was hurting, perhaps it was her or perhaps it was them—

“Sleep,” Dragon said. “Rest; train; eat. Tomorrow is a new day. I will be here to listen to your full report.”

She smiled at him, and bobbed her head in a nod, turning to leave him in the room starting to fill up with the light of a new day. Mornings and tomorrows had once felt like an impossible curse, a particularly cruel machination of an already cruel world—but right now they were gifts, and she was glad to accept.

\--

After missions she always found that she could never truly rest until whatever remained of her energy was depleted. She had to repeat the steps of her well-practiced forms until the tenseness that gathered in her core loosened and her mind slowed. It was not easy to be the person trying to provide stitches to a gaping wound and that was what being a Revolutionary felt like sometimes; a stopgap measure. But it remained the only just option she knew, and her body and mind could do it, and so she must, she yearned to.

She raised her leg to the correct height for her next step, her muscles pulled tight to keep her body in its place. Her breathing was nearly ragged, the up-and-down pump of her own body as it worked to keep up with her. She was not a fish-person, and her body and muscles were not the same as those who had developed these forms. But the diversity of their species required an adaptability in their martial arts; she was unique, but so was nearly everyone else learning these positions.

_‘Good,’ said Hack, his sharp eyes watching where her arms were raised, her muscles quivering with the effort of it. ‘I've never seen that turn performed quite like that, but it works. It's good.’_

Her body was her own now and it could be a weapon. She stepped lightly, her eyes closed—her body knew the way—and bent with the wind, like those who developed this would have bent with the tides. She could be art. She could be anything.

\--

“Where have you been off to?” Sabo asked, tossing aside the newspaper he'd been reading—or pretending to read, anyway, she'd watched his eyes skid over it for a few moments before she crept up behind him and (to her satisfaction) got him to startle when she'd announced her presence with a sudden shout.

“I told you before I left,” she said, flopping down beside him.  The week's worth of anxious sleeping, combined with her training forms, was now truly weighing on her body, and she let herself lean against his shoulder. He was warm underneath his coat.

Sabo leaned his head against hers. “You told _me_ that Dragon told _you_ that such information was classified.”

She smiled. “Yes,” she said patiently, “And then I strongly implied that I was going to Vangade.”

“Okay,” Sabo laughed, “How was Vangade?”

Koala’s eyelids fluttered; it was becoming a fight to stay awake. “Good. It was good.” The two of them were seated close enough and still enough that she almost imagined she could hear her heartbeat and his, _ba-da, ba-da_ ; a twin pulse.

That was her world, distilled. The freedom to rest and to listen and to hear. To love and to laugh and to be genuine. To cry and to ache. Sometimes the Revolutionary Army’s goals seemed hopeless, but in moments like these they felt so close she thought she could reach out and take them. _Justice. Compassion. Anger and hope._

She lifted her face to receive the gift of the now-risen sun. She had a friend against her shoulder, a whole army at her back. They buoyed her into the warmth, muffled chatter and laughter and working songs drifting in through the door. The gentle weight of it all settled into her tired bones, and finally she let her eyes drift closed.

She was home. She was _free._


End file.
